The Diamond in the Mist Chapter 1 It was chilly, Tuesday in the middle of October. 1842. A tall brisk young lady, walked up the steps of Greenwiche and Lovesmithe lawyers. This girl was a young girl of about 18. With dark brown locks, sweetly tied into a small bun, dark hazel eyes and dark olive skin. And yet what made her different from most other girls of her #lifetime was that, she and she alone, had a secret. A dark, dark secret. That yet she did not know. Inside the lawyers office, lay a small, crooked old man. Wrinkled like a prune. Sour like a lemon. He snapped his head around. Any quicker it wails have snapped clearly off his neck. This mans name was Waymoth Sweed. Yet he did not look like the vegetable of such. But a early, rather deformed one. "What ya wan'?" he said, squinting his watery blue eyes at the lady. "Please sir, I'm Miss Greenwiche, Aimee.. I'm here to see" she whispered. "Ol' greenies daughter? Eh?" he said. "Yes that's right." Aimee said, adjusting her handbag on her right arm. As her left was slightly weak at a presence she did not know of. "What's ya business 'ere miss?" Mr. Sweed said, placing his newspaper by the fire not knowing it's corners would soon be alight. "I'm here to see Mr. Lovesmithe. My late fathers partner." she said, standing up taller mentioning her father. "Oh sad case bout 'im miss, sorry bout that" he said, his rusty old jaw swaying from side to side, it's joints needing oiling. "Thank you. Now may I please see Mr. Lovesmithe." Aimee said. "Who?" Mr Sweed replied. "Mr. Lovesmithe." "Who? I can't 'ardly ear ya miss. I'm going blind in that ear" he cackled, laughing. He was a clearly an educated man. Aimee sighed. Looking around she looked for a sign stating Mr. Locksmithe. "Sweedy, who's this dasher then?" Another man said, about Aimee's age. A brown haired boy, brown eyed light skinned. He trundled into the room. His scrawny brown tux. Tattered at the edges. Aimee cleared her throat. "I am here to see Mr. Locksmithe." She stated. "Oh. He ain't 'ere at the moment, but shall I leave a message?" he said. "No. I need to speak with him in person" she stated again. "Um. You can speak to me. I know all there is to know about ol' smithey!" he chortled. "You know as much as a commener knows about politics" Mr. Sweed said, suddenly reappearing into the scene. "Shut your trap sweed." The younger man said. "I didn't catch your name?" Aimee said. "Names Jim, Jim Farmer. Porter" he said, smirking. "I'm Aimee Greenwiche." she said, blinking a few times to make sure she was still stable. "Greenies daughter? Terrible shame ain't it? Sorry miss." Jim said. "It's fine." Aimee murmed. "May we speak now?"